


Just a Tailor

by eeyore9990



Series: 30 Thankful Days [17]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Spy, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Kingsman is just a menswear shop, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He used to have hard limits, lines he wouldn’t cross. No piss, no blood, no hits with a closed fist. Now all he required was cash up front. That and a guaranteed spot on this street, within view of that building. The tailor shop on this relatively quiet street was the only thing Eggsy had to look forward to in his miserable life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Tailor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DizzilySpiraling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzilySpiraling/gifts), [badwolfbadwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfbadwolf/gifts).



> 30 Thankful Days, Day 17: Gift for DizzilySpiraling and Badwolfbadwolf

Eggsy sighed and leaned back against the piss-covered wall behind him, uncaring of the scent because there were enough blokes out there with weird kinks that it gave him a fifty-fifty shot of scoring a john tonight. That and he needed to get a bit of the weight off his aching feet. 

He used to have hard limits, lines he wouldn't cross. No piss, no blood, no hits with a closed fist. Now all he required was cash up front. That and a guaranteed spot on _this_ street, within view of _that_ building. The tailor shop on this relatively quiet street was the only thing Eggsy had to look forward to in his miserable life. 

_Kingsman_ , the window proclaimed in a nice, understated lettering. The three beautiful suits in the window were changed out frequently, always by the same bloke. The only bloke who really seemed to work in the shop, actually. He'd arrive sometime before Eggsy rolled out of whatever fuck's bed he'd spent the night in, and leave at the stroke of five. He didn't step out for tea, he was always punctual in leaving, and though he was an older gent, he walked with a precision that spoke of military training. 

That, plus the way he dressed, in smart suits with crisp lines and shoes shined to within an inch of their life -- also the umbrella, rain or shine -- had led to Eggsy's fantasy life for the gent. He was a government agent, a spy. His umbrella was a submachine gun or a dart gun or a poison gas gun. Maybe it was the dish part of a satellite relay or a curved computer screen for him to communicate with some perky blonde with a swishy ponytail somewhere in one of the surrounding high rise buildings. 

The black, square glasses that perched on his nose obviously held a camera and-- 

"Hey, love," Eggsy said, snapping out of his reverie when a likely john walked by for a second time, a little slower than his first pass. "Need directions?" 

The man glanced up, eyes widening in embarrassed horror, before he quickened his steps and nearly ran off down the lane. 

Eggsy rolled his eyes and went back to his perusal of the shop across the road. 

The shop, of course, was just a front. Inside there would be shoes that shot knives out of the toe, or had jets in the heels, or springs in the soles. They'd help the well-dressed gent-who-was-a-spy get out of a jam. There were tunnels beneath the city, everyone knew that, and one of them probably had a secret entrance to the shop. Maybe a bullet train that connected it to some country estate somewhere. It was where the gent went during the day because god knew he didn't have many customers. Eggsy had counted maybe twenty in total during the time he'd been working this street. 

Quick footsteps made him perk up, looking both ways to see if it were a cop after him or … ah, nah. It was the same skittish john from before. 

Canting his hips, Eggsy smirked and winked. "Hello again, luv." 

\-- 

It was pissing rain the next time Eggsy was across from Kingsman, which meant nothing good for catching the eye of a passing businessman looking for a bit of arse before dinner. But honestly, it was all right, because it meant Eggsy was still standing under the stoop of the empty shop across from Kingsman when the bells around the city tolled the end of the work day. And like clockwork, the door opened, the well-kept gent stepped out, and closed up behind him, not so much as fighting with his key in the lock. 

Eggsy sighed, palming his cock. He did enjoy his gent's competence. One day he'd have to give the bloke a name. Edward after the old king or, oh, one of the knights of the round table. Not Arthur though, because he definitely looked much too dapper to be Arthur. Galahad, that'd been the one who won the hearts of the ladies fair, yes? 

Eggsy would call his gent Galahad. 

Galahad popped his umbrella open smartly, swinging it above his head as he stepped away from his shop's awning. Then he looked about, his eyes glancing past Eggsy before cutting back swiftly. 

Good government agents who lasted until their middle years always noticed when they were being watched. 

They stayed that way, the rain falling between them to the cobblestone street as more and more people began to rush past. Then, Galahad blinked, taking a half-step back even as his cheeks flushed with color. Eyebrows crinkling a little in the middle, Galahad dipped his chin, giving Eggsy a faint nod before he turned and set off toward the Tube, his steps neither fast nor slow. 

Just very, very precise. 

Like a spy. 

\-- 

"Hello, beautiful." The voice snapped Eggsy out of his staring contest with the Kingsman's door, and he turned to see a cocky bloke standing there, eyes dragging up and down Eggsy's body. 

"Fuck off," Eggsy muttered, already ignoring the idiot. How dare he come on to Eggsy at this time of day? Didn't he know it was almost five o'clock? Almost time for Galahad to-- 

"Oi! I think you should be a bit nicer." A hand wrapped around Eggsy's arm, making him see red just before the bells went off and the shop door opened. And then he stepped _in front of_ Eggsy, blocking his view of the shop. Of Galahad. "I'm about to pay you to suck my cock, after all." 

"All I'll be doing wiv your cock, bruv, is ripping it off wiv my teeth, geddit?" Yanking his arm from the red-faced git's hold, he looked over his shoulder, hoping for something to tide him over. 

What he got was a punch to the jaw that had him staggering backward, coming up hard against the door behind him, the knob digging into his spine and likely leaving a mark. 

"Hey there!" The shout came from across the street and Eggsy looked up, clutching his jaw as his attacker froze then took off running, obviously not willing to stick around and be noticed more than he had been. Galahad approached at a loping run, brandishing his umbrella at the wanker. Slowing to a stop in front of Eggsy, Galahad bent forward and offered his hand, "All right, there, lad?" 

Eggsy pushed himself upright from his slump, avoiding touching Galahad's hand -- he'd cleaned up after his last john, but…. "Thanks, guv. 'M all right." 

Curling his fingers in toward his palm, Galahad slowly drew his hand back, looking a bit wrong-footed. "That was quite a punch. Would you like me to call someone?" 

"Nah, 's fine. Got a steel jaw." Eggsy smoothed his hand over it again, eyes raking over Galahad, drinking in every detail. "Nice." He reached out, not quite touching the beautifully-tailored wool suit. "British cut; I thought Italian from across the way." 

Galahad blinked at him, then down at his suit. "I…" 

"'S just, with shoulders like that--" 

"Sorry, but. Are you chatting me up?" Galahad looked around, confusion twisting his features. "Is that what's happening?" 

The bottom of Eggsy's belly dropped out, but he straightened his shoulders and smirked, like Galahad was any one of a hundred other johns. "Could do, luv." He threw in a wink for good measure. 

Galahad raised his eyes to the sky, studied it for a long minute, then dropped them down again to lock gazes with Eggsy, who was trying not to feel uncomfortable in his own skin. "Let's try again, shall we?" Galahad's lips quirked at one corner, and he reached up to adjust his spy glasses. "Do you know the name of the little miscreant that struck you? I'll be happy to escort you to the police so that you might give his description." 

A quick laugh bubbled out of Eggsy. "Erm, no. Rather they didn't pinch me in his place." 

Galahad's cheeks went a little pink, but he nodded smoothly anyway and made to step away. But he hesitated with one foot half-raised and then put it back down in the same spot. "How did you know?" 

"Know what?" 

"It's just, most people don't know the difference between an Italian cut and an English cut." 

Eggsy shrugged. "Most people are bloody idiots. It's tucked in at the waist, but not got padding in the shoulders. Double vented." He waved his hand at Galahad's beautiful suit. "Obviously British." 

"You've got a sharp eye." 

"I'm no James Bond, like y--" Eggsy cut himself off, a little embarrassed at having just blurted it out like that. "I, ah. Right then." 

Galahad tilted his head a little quizzically, eyebrows furrowing; he obviously had to maintain his cover. Eggsy hid a grin behind his hand, covering it with a cough. 

"So cheers, bruv. You should probably…" Eggsy gestured in the direction of the Tube, stomach sinking as Galahad's expression smoothed out and he glanced at his watch. 

It probably had an explosive device inside it. 

"Right, yes. Well. Do be careful. Mean streets these days." Dipping his head in a nod that had become all too familiar in the weeks since they'd first made eye contact that day in the rain, Galahad turned on his heel and walked away. 

"Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go," Eggsy muttered in an undertone as he watched the way the light weight wool pulled across Galahad's shoulders and his very nice arse as he crossed back over to the other side of the street. 

\-- 

Eggsy hefted his bag back up his shoulder from where it'd slipped down a little and pushed through the crowd, knowing he'd be late if he didn't chivvy a few people along a bit. He'd had a john that had wanted slow and meaningful. He hated when they forgot they were paying him for a fuck. 

As he rounded the corner, coming up on his empty shopfront, he heard a shout that made him look up. And then he saw it -- couldn't believe he hadn't seen it already, as obsessed as he was with Kingsman and its proprietor. 

The glass door had been forced open. Even from here, Eggsy could see where the wood was splintered and the door hanging crooked. In the doorway, Galahad was slumped in a seated position with a white cloth pressed to his forehead… a white cloth that was turning bright with blood. 

Dropping his things right in the middle of the sidewalk, Eggsy dashed across the street, stumbling to his knees beside his gent. "What happened?" he asked, the urgency in his voice shocking even him. 

Galahad opened his eyes, pain darkening them and making him wince. "Group of… lads. Broke in while I was in the back. Thought they'd find cash." Galahad glanced around, looking bewildered. "My clients don't pay in cash." 

Eggsy reached up, easing Galahad's hand away from his forehead, checking on the wound underneath the silk handkerchief he was using to stem the blood. It was a few inches long, a little jagged. Like he'd been hit over the head with… "Did they bash you wiv a bottle?" 

"From all appearances, yes." 

"Whatchu mean, 'from all appearances'? Did those arseholes hit you from behind?" A fine red haze crept across Eggsy's vision, anger making his blood hot. "How the bloody fuck did they sneak up on _you_?" 

"I was working on some tricky stitching; I always have my music turned up and--" 

Eggsy narrowed his eyes. "You was workin' on a suit?" 

Galahad sighed, head sinking a little. "I'll have to start over. Blood got on the wool." 

"I'll kill 'em." 

A small, weary smile lifted the edges of Galahad's lips. "I doubt that level of violence will be necessary. I've already alerted the authorities. In fact…" He shot a half-apologetic look at Eggsy. "They should be here soon. You can leave now if you like. I know you were worried before about the police." 

"I'm not leaving you." 

Galahad leaned toward Eggsy, a little of his weight sinking against his shoulder. "What's your name? I can't keep calling you That Nice Boy in my head. Not when you've seen me with a head wound." 

"I can't believe you were calling me That Nice Boy regardless. M'name's Eggsy. Eggsy Unwin." Wrapping an arm around Galahad's shoulders, Eggsy eased him further against his side. 

"Harry Hart." The sound of sirens reached them then and Harry -- he was a prince among men, so it worked better than Galahad -- made a noise of protest. "I need to go inside and fetch the surveillance video." 

"I'll get it. You sit here and pretty the place up." Shifting Harry a bit, Eggsy eased out from under him and darted into the shop. "Erm, where you keep 'em?" 

"Straight back, beyond dressing room three. Door's on the right." 

Eggsy walked past fine wools and silks, unable to stop himself from dragging his fingers across them. Further into the shop the room narrowed to a hallway, off which were the dressing rooms. Eggsy found the office, then the surveillance set up. State of the art, of course, not that he'd expected anything different. 

Harry Hart, mild-mannered tailor. Eggsy snorted to himself, shaking his head. Riiiight. 

"Oi! You there. Whatchu think you're doin'? Unwin, that you?" 

Eggsy looked up, face going blank as he took in the features of the too-familiar policeman who'd entered the office behind him. 

"Williams, fancy that. Steppin' up in the world, are you?" 

Hand on his hip over his baton, Williams sneered at him, showing off a row of ugly, crooked teeth. "Not the only one, looks like. What's a posh bloke like Mr Hart doin' wiv a cheap bit o' arse like you?" 

"Excuse me, gentlemen." 

Eggsy startled, looking toward the doorway to see Harry standing there, calmly folding his handkerchief into quarters before tucking it into his breast pocket, bloodied-side up. 

" _Mister_ Williams," Harry continued, straightening his cuffs as his eyes went cold and his chin tipped up so as to allow him to look down his lovely nose. "My associate, Mr Unwin, was being good enough to collect the video of the incident. I believe you were supposed to be surveying the area where the attack took place, hmm? My instructions for how to find my work room were clear, I thought, but perhaps not. You're in the wrong area, Mr Williams." 

Williams' face went blotchy and puffed with anger at Harry's cool dressing down. He huffed a bit before trying to skirt around Harry, who caught his arm in a firm grip and turned him toward Eggsy. "I believe you forgot something." 

"Eh?" 

"The apology you owe my dear friend." 

Williams' mouth opened and closed, a harsh sound of disbelief bursting from him before he finally growled, "Apologies." 

Eggsy considered being a little prick about it, but he just nodded with a shitty little smirk instead. 

Harry released Williams and let him skitter out then came further into the room. "I'm sorry, Eggsy, I didn't realize he'd come back here until it was too late. You should never have suffered that." 

Tilting his head, Eggsy studied Harry before he said, "It's nothing." 

"It's not nothing." 

Before Harry could continue what was bound to be a lovely speech, Eggsy shook his head and laughed. "Harry, my _friend_ , I don't wear these fishnet stockings for my health. I wear them because I am, indeed, a cheap bit o' arse." 

"What you do does not define who you are," Harry said softly, reaching out and resting the tips of his fingers against Eggsy's shoulder, just near his throat. The touch made him shiver. "And if you ever wish to _do_ something other than stand across the street, I could use a bit of help around here from someone who knows the difference between Italian and English cut suits." 

Eggsy sighed and stood up, slapping the disc with the video on it against Harry's chest. "Don't try to save me, bruv. I ain't worth it." 

Harry raised his hand, placing it over Eggsy's and holding it against his chest. "You don't need saving, Eggsy. And you're worth more than you know. Manners maketh man. Your manners show you to be a very fine man indeed." 

Snorting at that, Eggsy pulled away and walked to the door. "Get to the hospital, mate. You've taken a harder hit than I thought." 

"Then let that be my excuse," Harry said, grabbing Eggsy's arm and jerking him back. "Have dinner with me tonight." 

Eggsy lifted his chin, clenching his jaw. "It's forty quid an hour for my services." 

"We'll have to stop by the bank, then, won't we?" And then, Harry Hart, posh gentleman who owned a shop and sold the most beautiful suits Eggsy had ever seen, held his breath, his eyes wide and worried as he waited for Eggsy to reject him. 

For _Eggsy_ to reject _him._

"Of the two of us, you're the one needs saving, aren't you? Fuck, bruv, you seriously need your head examined. I'm a rent boy, Harry. Even Williams, dumb fuck that he is, knows that. What are you doing?" 

"Having dinner with a boy I admire very much." 

Eggsy looked to the door and then turned back, pushing his trackpants down past his knees in one quick move. "I've just come back from a fuck, so I'm probably still stretched enough for you to dive right in." 

Harry blinked, looked down, and blinked again. "Oh. You weren't… joking. About the fishnet stockings." 

"Nope." Spreading his hands, Eggsy asked, "How do you want me?" 

Harry raised his gaze to Eggsy's, his face softening as he smiled. "Wait here." And then he walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. 

Eggsy waited, jerking his trackpants back up and crossing his arms over his chest. The door opened again, Harry coming through with a suit in his hands. 

"Here. I… A client couldn't pay, and you'll need something to wear to dinner. I'm certain it will fit you well. Much as those garments you're wearing are... serviceable, I've a standing reservation at a restaurant that requires a jacket and tie--" 

But Eggsy was already reaching forward, already running his hands over the material and falling in love. "I haven't any shoes to wear with this though." He couldn't even judge himself for not putting up more of a fight. The suit was _lovely_. 

"I sell a full line to go with the suits. We'll be able to find you a pair. Oxfords." 

"Yeah, no, definitely not brogues. Not with this beauty." 

Harry let out a soft sigh, and it sounded longing. "I'll pay you forty quid an hour to come work for me." 

"Sweet talk and fine suits? You might just convince me yet." Then, looking up at Harry from beneath his lashes, he smiled and said, "But you'll never get me out of my fishnets." 

Biting his lip, Harry flushed a delicious shade of red. "I could never live with myself if I did." 

"Kinky, Mr Hart. Very kinky." 

Obviously flustered, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and made eye contact with Eggsy, who was out right grinning, before he tilted his chin a little proudly and said, "Yes, well, I've been told I tie a fine knot. So make of that what you will." 

Eggsy nodded to himself as he rubbed his cheek over the suit that Harry would get back over his dead body. Proficient with tying people up, a state of the art surveillance system... yeah. 

_Spy._ Definitely a spy.


End file.
